


The Still Dark of Night

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-04
Updated: 2002-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night after 'The Harsh Light of Day', Buffy and Spike meet up and decide they want to do something besides fighting... S4, B/S, PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Still Dark of Night

Buffy continued to make her rounds of the campus. She was the Slayer, dammit, and that meant that she patrolled no matter what had happened to her the day before. So what if patrolling consisted of completely distracted Parker sobbing? So what if she really probably should have checked out that suspicious rustling in the bushes? Oh, who was she kidding… This was a sulkfest, and she wasn’t going to let her Slayer duties spoil one second of it.

This hurt. It hurt, and she hated being hurt. How dare he just use her like that? She had trusted him, trusted in the things he was saying, trusted that there was actually something real between them…

“God, can I get anymore pathetic?” she sighed aloud, jabbing her stake into the empty air in an attempt to relieve all the anger and grief that was consuming her at the moment. “Behold Buffy, the gullible freshman. She fell for the oldest trick in the book. Everyone, feel free to laugh at her expense on the count of three…”

The call to Angel had just been the nail in the coffin. The entire time she’d been half-convinced that he knew. She couldn’t take that…not being shamed in front of Angel… She wished she hadn’t had to make that damn call, but the ring needed to be moved immediately. Spike was the type not to let anything like a stake in the chest or a disinvite to deter him from stalking her friends until he got what he wanted.

“Stupid vampire,” she kicked a nearby tree. “I’ll show him who’s not worth a second go…” Her eyes widened at the unintended implications of that statement, and she banged her head against the tree repeatedly.

“OK, _now_ can I get anymore pathetic?” she asked rhetorically.

Then, that firm resolve that had gotten her through the Angel-fiasco took over, and she decided to do the one thing she wasn’t pathetic at: killing things. It was actually kind of creepy just how quickly her predatory instincts took over, pushing all her problems down into her subconscious for a time.

Two vamps that were trying to feed off a night janitor met quick and dusty ends. Said janitor seemed a bit too shocked to realize what happened, and Buffy hustled him onto a crowded quad before she continued all her patrol.

 _Must kill things, must kill things_ , her mind repeated over and over again. _Must not think about Parker, must kill things, must not think about Parker, must kill things, must not think about things, must kill Parker…_ She paused when she realized that her mantra had inadvertently changed. She thought about it for a second and decided she liked it the new way. _Must not think about things, must kill Parker…_

She rounded the corner behind the math building, and instantly her Slayer sense went crazy, warning her of something _major_ in the area. She dropped to a low crouch, and her senses all honed in on one spot along the wooded path ahead. With feline stealth, she rounded the corner and spotted her prey sitting on the park bench up ahead, a hunched-over black shadow in the dark.

Slowly, she raised her stake…

And her quarry’s head shot up, looking straight at her.

For a second the two foes just stared at each other, too shocked to do much else.

“Shit!” Buffy exclaimed in exasperation, gripping her stake tighter. “I should have known it would be you. Come back to make my life _more_ miserable?”

“Hardly.” Spike quickly leapt to his feet, rubbing slightly at her face as he did so.

For a second Buffy would have sworn that those were _tears?_ in his eyes.

“Right then, let’s do this, Slayer,” he said unenthusiastically, dropping into a shaky fighting stance.

Buffy mirrored his action. They both tensed and waited…

And waited…

And waited…

“Are you goin’ to attack anytime soon?” he finally demanded irately. “’Cause ‘ve got better things to do than stand around all night.”

Buffy let out a weary sigh. “You know,” she began, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m not really in the mood tonight.” She moved to put her stake back in her waistband.

“Tell me ‘bout it,” Spike agreed, dropping out of his fighting stance and plopping back down on the bench.

“Look,” Buffy put a hand to her head to try to sort out this most recent strangeness in her life, “are you drunk or something? Because I can’t just let you run around campus and…” She trailed off abruptly.

“You gonna stake me, Slayer?” he demanded, his face buried in his hands once again. “Jus’ bloody _do_ it!”

An unusual calm passed over Buffy in that moment. Not concerned for her safety in the least, she sat down at the other end of the bench and mirrored his position, elbows on knees and head in hands.

“How about another deal?” she finally said, turning her head slightly to look at him.

“Deal?” He turned to look at her as well and cocked an eyebrow in her direction.

“Just for tonight,” she clarified, “you don’t bite anyone, and I don’t stake you.”

He thought about it for a second. “All right,” he finally agreed.

“Shake on it?” Buffy extended her right hand to him.

He looked at it as though it might bite for a second and then took hold of it with his left. They did some awkward wrist contortions until they finally managed to shake hands.

His hand was cool and rough and much larger than she’d realized. She watched, fascinated, as his long, graceful fingers curled around hers, holding her with just the right amount of strength… Buffy shook her head and pulled her arm back when she realized they’d been holding hands longer than was absolutely necessary.

Spike ducked his head in a gesture of…shyness? Then, he looked away and propped his chin up with both hands again.

“So,” he finally broke the silence, looking anywhere but at her, “what brings you here this lovely evenin’?”

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh slightly and fought back the tears in her eyes once more.

Unfortunately, he saw them. “Slayer?” he asked curiously. “What’s wrong, pet?”

“Parker,” she waved one hand in the air dismissively.

He frowned in confusion.

“That loser you saw me with,” she clarified.

“Ah,” he nodded in agreement, “turned out to be more ‘f a wanker than you’d anticipated.”

“I guess you could say that,” she nodded, trying to inconspicuously wipe away her tears. “You?” she asked nervously.

He let out a deep sigh and slumped back in the seat, his arms casually thrown over the back of the bench. “Same as always,” he sniffed slightly, running a hand through his hair.

“Drusilla?” she said softly. She noticed with some consternation that his arm was wrapped around the seat behind her. All she would have to do was lean back, and he’d have his arm around her… The worst part was the little voice her head screaming that that’s what she _wanted_.

He fixed her with a meaningful look. “Why’d she leave me?” he asked desperately. “It didn’t mean anything, the alliance between you an’ me. I jus’ did it to save her…” He gave her a pleading glance.

“You did it to save her,” Buffy agreed, looking back at him. It was so strange to see him sad like this; he looked vulnerable at that moment, sweet, caring… _beautiful_ … Buffy’s eyes widened at the bizarre turn of thoughts her mind had been taking recently.

“S’pose it’s for the best,” he sounded unconvinced. “After all, if she never really loved me…”

A sob. A genuine, all-out sob. In front of _her_.

“Hey,” Buffy said with sudden compassion, resting one hand on his knee, “it’ll all turn out all right…” The statement didn’t mean anything, of course, but it was one of those things you always felt obliged to say to someone in pain.

He stopped crying when her hand touched his knee. It felt so…different. Alive and strong and warm…so very warm, heating up his chilled flesh…

Absentmindedly, Buffy began to trace little patterns on his leg with her thumb. She could feel the coiled muscle beneath her hand, and it felt raw and powerful and exciting. Unconsciously, she finally leaned back, settling herself into the curl of his arm.

“Slayer?”

There was so much hidden in the cerulean depths of those eyes. Grief, desperation, barely bridled fury, and…yes, there it was: _desire_.

“Shh,” she said softly, leaning into him.

His lips were mere inches from hers now, slightly parted as if he were trying to speak but too surprised to do so. He really had such soft, tender lips, she’d noticed time and time again. They seemed both inappropriate to his otherwise sharp features and fitting somehow, the perfect extra little touch to complete his beauty.

She’d thought so the first time she’d met him. She would never forget the thought that had come into her mind in that instant when he first stepped out of the shadows into the alley. _Oh my god, it’s the most gorgeous man ali—oh crap, he’s a vampire!_

Sometimes the Buffy part of her scared the Slayer part. Now was _definitely_ one of those times…

“Slayer, what are you doing?” he finally managed to whisper, their lips only a hairsbreadth apart now.

“I figure,” Buffy replied softly, “that if my love life’s been reduced to meaningless sex, I might as well do it with someone I want.”

His eyes widened in shock and amazement when her lips covered his. And then his eyelids fluttered shut as he returned her kiss, his arms wrapping around her back to pull her flush up against him.

Buffy moaned against his mouth and opened her lips at his tongue’s insistence. Her own tongue rose up to fend him off, and they did fierce battle at the juncture of their mouths. Her hands slid over his shoulders and up around his neck until they finally, _finally_ got to feel just how soft and silky those platinum curls really were.

She let out an excited squeal when he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up into his lap. She could feel the signs of his arousal between her thighs, and she eagerly ground her own need against his.

“Slayer…” he hissed when their mouths finally broke apart, peppering kisses all over her face and neck.

“Spike…” she agreed, her fingers sneaking up under his shirt to feel the cool skin beneath.

“Oh Christ!” he cried out when her exploring hands found one of his nipples and gave it a slight twist. A low growl rumbled through his throat and he tackled her back onto the bench.

“Mmm,” she moaned as his own hands ventured beneath her blouse, pulling it up as they discovered her feverish flesh. She arched her back a bit, helping him to slip the garment off.

And then he was upon her with newfound intensity. A mild protest bubbled up in the back of Buffy’s mind when he ripped her bra in two, exposing her to him completely. However, the feel of his cool tongue on her breasts quickly overcame any worries she might have about the wanton destruction of her underwear.

She tugged at his duster and overshirt, trying to pull them down his shoulders. He obliged her by pulling back and tossing the impeding clothing aside.

He knelt above her for a second, looking for all the world like a sleek jungle cat intent upon its prey. She slowly slid her hands down the front of his T-shirt, feeling every twinge and ripple of the taut muscles beneath. When she reached his waist, she slipped her hands inside and repeated her previous journey in reverse.

Slowly, his marble-sculptured chest was exposed for her eager perusal. She didn’t even notice when he pulled his shirt over his head, she was so entranced by the moonlit skin before her.

 _Mother load_ , her mind began making those little cash register sounds. _Parker, who?_

Their bodies met once more with fiery intensity. They warred with mouth and tongue, each struggling for dominance and each failing in the same way that always happened when they fought.

His hands traced her sides before slipping inside the waistband of her jeans. He roughly caught her ass in his palms and held it tight as he ground his erection down into her.

Her hands, in turn, glided down his back, warming the pale skin there and savoring the savage power beneath. Her legs rose on either side of him to wrap around his waist, bringing him into perfect alignment…

They thrust their hips together and moaned when their jeans impeded immediate union.

“Clothes. Off. Now.” Buffy managed to gasp out.

He nodded dazedly, and they both began kicking off their boots and scrambling for zippers. Their normal predatory grace seemed to be to severally inhibited by lust, and they fell off the bench, landing on the ground on top of Spike’s duster.

Finally squirming her way out of her panties, Buffy lay back against the leather, panting. Her pupils dilated with arousal at the size of the catch she’d made tonight.

“Mmm, Slayer,” he murmured softly against her ear, his nostrils flaring to take in the delicious smell of her arousal.

“Spike,” she whimpered softly when she felt his velvet head press against her slick inner thigh. “Please, Spike…”

“Guess you’re the begging kind after all, ‘ey pet?” he chuckled slightly to himself.

And then he thrust inside her with all the force of a pile driver.

“Oh god!” Buffy screamed aloud and this violent and massive invasion.

She felt her inner walls stretch in ways she didn’t even know was possible. She began gasping desperately as he began pumping in and out of her, using his full strength to drive within her.

“So good!” she moaned. “Hard…and deep…and, oh god!” she repeated her earlier sentiment.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight in an effort to keep from exploding at the raging inferno surrounding him. Her walls stretched and caved to accommodate him perfectly, fitting as snuggly as a scabbard on a sword. Slight whimpers of loss escaped both their lips each time he pulled out, only to turn to screams of delight when he plunged back into her moist depths.

“Cor, Slayer,” he groaned aloud, burying his face into her shoulder while his hips continued to piston into her at a steadily increasing tempo.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” Buffy began chanting over and over again every time he entered her. “Oh god Spike, oh god Spike, oh god Spike!” She screamed out again when his hand reached down to flick her clit. “Oh Spike, oh Spike, oh Spike…”

Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she locked her ankles at the small of his back. They both cried aloud as the new angle of penetration plunged him even deeper within her. His rough curls were rubbing against her clit with each thrust now, and his head struck that most sensitized area right at the entrance to her womb.

He was purring deep in his throat now, and the sound shook his entire body, sending tantalizing vibrations straight through the tip of his firm cock into her very core. She cried out in delight and tightened her legs around him, demanding more and more and faster and faster…

She felt giddy from the pleasure building up within her and opened her eyes to Spike watching her intently, a look of complete awe on his face. She rose to dizzying new heights as he thrust into her hard one last time. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion in that instant. The fire in his eyes, the drop of sweat threatening to drop from his nose, his ragged and unnecessary gasps for air, and the smooth even motions of his hips… She had time to memorize every one while the two of them locked together at the very peak of ecstasy.

And then the world came crashing down around them. They clung together at the overwhelming pleasure, bodies quivering, lips frantically tasting each other, both achieving sweet release while he remained buried within her to the hilt.

Buffy moaned slightly, feeling the wind return to her lungs. She felt her inner muscles spasm one last time, milking out the last of his seed, before they reemerged from the state of bliss they had just been in, a mass of tangled and sweaty limbs.

“Spike,” she whispered softly, brushing back the damp platinum curls from his forehead.

“Oh, Buffy,” he murmured into her throat.

She belatedly realized that if he decided he was hungry for supper anytime soon, she was royally fucked…well, _more_ royally fucked than she just had been, at least…

However, he didn’t seem about to attack her. Rather, his body completely collapsed on top of hers, his thick member still buried deep within her. And neither of them was too eager for him to move it, either.

“That was…” Buffy finally gasped.

“You were…” he panted.

“ _Incredible_.”

They both looked at each other in surprise when they managed to say the word at exactly the same time. Then, as if on some mutual signal, they both cracked smiles. They had broken out into nearly hysterical laughing by the time Spike finally rolled off of her.

Buffy allowed herself to settle comfortably in the crook of his arm and slowly quieted her mirth. His laughter died down as well, leaving only the deep rumble of his chest. She found it strangely soothing and laid one hand over his non-beating heart to better feel the vibrations.

She felt so contented and relaxed at that moment, as if she had finally been completed. Her eyelashes and fluttered closed, and she had half drifted off into sleep when he finally spoke.

“Slayer?” he asked softly, that sexy London drawl he always put into her title sending little shivers down her spine.

“Hmm?” she murmured lazily.

“What’s this all about, kitten?” he inquired. “Not that ‘m complainin’ or anythin’…”

“Spontaneous sexual combustion?” she joked.

He chuckled slightly and petted her hair softly.

“ ‘Seize the day’,” she finally responded more seriously. “It’s my motto. Think I’ve finally got it polished up right, too.”

“Oh?” he asked curiously.

Her fingers fluttered lightly over that absolutely scrumptious six-pack of abs he’d been so cruelly hiding from her for so long.

“Finally found the right person to seize the day with,” she smiled slightly. “’Cause, ugh, human men just don’t cut it.”

“’m very unbruisable,” he joked.

Her eyes narrowed playfully. “I can give you some nice bruises…” she threatened.

“Please, baby,” he groaned, thrusting his hips against her slightly.

“I say it again,” she rolled her eyes, “you’re a pig.”

“Oink, oink,” he agreed, settling back down and closing his eyes again.

Buffy did so as well, not wanting to have to deal with the implications of what they’d just done to sink in yet.

“Uh-oh,” she finally jerked up.

“What?” One eye squinted open to look at her.

“We’re-we’re right in the middle of campus!” Buffy suddenly exclaimed, horrified. “Anyone could have walked by and seen us!”

He sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. “’s two in the mornin’, Slayer. No one’s out an’ about…’cept maybe vamps, an’ they’d all have the good sense to stay as far away from us as possible.” He caught hold of her waist and pulled her back down to the ground with him. “Now,” he said sternly, “stay put.”

They lay there for a little while longer, hands flitting ephemerally over heated flesh.

“Buffy…” Spike finally spoke again. “What are we exactly, pet?”

She sighed and dropped her head back against his shoulder. “Dunno. We’re not dating,” she quipped, “we’re just arch-enemies who have great sex.”

He smiled and then began chuckling softly to himself.

“What?” she demanded finally, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.

“Nothin’,” he shook it off. “’s just…I always thought I wanted to kill you,” he whispered into her ear. “All this time, an’ I didn’t even know that I _really_ wanted…”

“Mmm, I know how you feel,” she agreed, wrapping her arm around his waist. “So,” she finally said, “what do we do now?”

“’ve got plans,” he said warily.

“You’re going to go chase after the Gem,” she accused.

“Maybe,” he gave her a sly smile and a tongue waggle. “’m not tellin’ you, tha’s for sure.”

“The busy life of an evildoer,” she sighed wistfully.

“Right, you are.”

“Then I guess this should probably be good-bye,” she said reluctantly. “After all, good here.”

“Evil here,” he nodded.

“Very un-mixy.”

“Is that even a word?” he demanded.

“Shut up,” she retorted.

He groaned. “God, I think I need a cigarette,” he complained.

She rolled her eyes, sitting up. “Cliché much?”

“I always need a cigarette,” he clarified, sitting up as well.

“Guess we’d better get dressed then,” she said in a dull monotone, picking up her grass-stained blouse.

“Guess so.” He caught hold of his jeans.

“Spike,” she said, a slow smile curling at the edges of her lips.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I had a really good time…”

He smiled as well. “Me, too, luv,” he agreed. “Me, too.”

And with those final words, the mortal enemies got dressed, parted on their separate ways, and vanished into the still dark of night, an extra spring in their step.


End file.
